


A Good Night's Sleep

by InsertSthMeaningful



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Bottom Erik Lehnsherr, Charles You Slut, Cherik on Krakoa, Dawn of X (2019), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erik Lehnsherr Cries His Way Through Sex, Erik Lehnsherr Defense Squad, Erik Lehnsherr Loves Charles Xavier, Erik You Slut, Everyone Needs A Hug, Excalibur Vol. 4 (2004), Fluff, M/M, Resurrection, Smut, Spoilers, X-Force (2019), mutants in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25805962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertSthMeaningful/pseuds/InsertSthMeaningful
Summary: It is well-known that in mutant heaven, there are only revolving doors. However, that doesn't make Charles' last death any easier for Erik, and when the Professor returns, more than just a sword forged from the bloodied Cerebro helmet awaits him.After all, getting a good night's sleep has never been easy for either of them.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 31
Kudos: 63





	A Good Night's Sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyLustful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLustful/gifts).



> LadyLustful wrote some wonderful conjugal visits in prison with old!Cherik, so this fic is dedicated to her :3<
> 
> In Excalibur (2004), Charles returns to the ruins of Genosha to ~~move in with his husband~~ try and re-build the mutant nation with the help of his ~~emotional support arch-nemesis aka on-and-off lover~~ old friend Erik Lehnsherr aka Magneto. There's lots of cool fighting, many bared abs and also rain. And Cherik. So. Much. Cherik. Honestly, just confess that you're married already. 
> 
> And I think we all know what happens in X-Force (2019) 🙂🙂🙂 *internal screaming because of the first issue*

Then

It didn’t even take half a night for Erik to cave and come crawling under Charles’ covers.

Outside, the wind was moaning in the darkness of Genosha’s ruins. In the safety of his bed, Charles snaked an arm around Erik’s waist and pulled him closer.

His old friend’s forehead against his was warm, almost feverish.

“Memories?” he asked and carefully tucked a strand of Erik’s hair – of a deadly white in the weak moonlight, like bleached bones – behind his ear.

“Memories,” Erik agreed. “Genosha was meant to be our people’s future – maybe even a future for the two of us. Instead, the streets are now littered with their bones, and the few who survived are out there in the cold, freezing and alone. Charles, I murdered them all.”

Charles hummed, brushed his thumb over Erik’s cheek. “That’s not true. You gave them a home, a sanctuary, and it was the simple-minded who came and wiped them out.”

Erik was still for a long time. Outside, rain began to fall and beat a quiet staccato on the windowpanes.

“Sometimes I wish I had died with them,” came Erik’s voice, a whisper against Charles’ lips. “As an atonement for my sins.”

“No. Erik, dear god, no. We are both old men, we have lived countless lives and made mistakes, but I’d rather have you whole and hurting than dead like this wretched poor bastard in the coffin I brought with me.”

When Charles touched his lips to Erik’s cheek, they came away wet.

“No man is an island, Erik, and least of all you,” he murmured and held his dearest friend close until the tremors subsided.

Now

The mutant nation of Krakoa is whole and alive once more, and yet, something is disturbing Erik.

“Is everything alright, old friend?” Charles asks as he puts his hands to Cerebro and lifts it off his head.

Erik doesn’t answer, just stands still and dark by the kitchen counter where the teakettle is boiling. The merry birdsong and golden sunlight filtering in through the windows of House of X seem not to reach his senses.

Only when he has poured their tea and joined Charles in the sun-drenched living room, steaming cups floating ahead of him, does he look up to meet Charles’ eyes.

Charles smiles and takes his. The metal is cool – Erik’s doing, so he won’t burn his fingers. “Thank you.”

His old friend doesn’t react. Instead, there’s the rustle of parchment paper as he lifts his hand and calls forth a meticulously wrapped object, long and thin and heavy when he sets it down in Charles’ palms.

“I suggest you keep this close,” is all he says before he goes back to sipping his tea.

It’s a sword.

Charles has just been given a sword – blade long and fine and glinting – forged of the remains of the Cerebro helmet he wore on the day of his assassination. The day he died.

“Oh Erik,” he murmurs and wields the blade in his hand – its hilt is a perfect fit, almost as though Erik had memorised the curls and callouses of his palm by heart. “Erik, dear. Have you slept at all since I’ve been gone?”

“ _Gone_?” Erik splutters. “Charles, you died! You were _dead_ for days and Krakoa was on the verge of collapse and you _dare_ to use such an empty euphemism?” His tea spills when he not so smoothly sets it down on Charles’ coffee table and begins to pace. “The human authorities have already begun to question our autonomy. They only waited for a slip-up like this to come marching in with their troops and tear down what we have built and if _you_ had not shown up at the New York gate today, they would already be here.”

He only grinds to a halt when Charles gets up and gently but firmly stands in his way. “ _I_ am here now. Not them. Will this be–”

– _enough_ , he wants to say. But Erik is kissing him before had can finish, and his fingers are warm and gentle as they cradle Charles’ head and dig into the small of his back.

“Damn Forge for getting the drop on me,” he murmurs when they draw apart for air. “That first kiss after you came back was meant to be mine.”

“All the others after that are yours, though,” Charles amends. He hums when the pads of his thumb brush over the dark circles beneath his old friend’s eyes. “My my, you ought to stop overexerting yourself, old friend. You’re not so young any more.”

He can feel the maelstrom of Erik’s thoughts settle down slowly. Under his touch, Erik relaxes his shoulders, slumps just a little to forfeit his usually so aloof leader pose.

“I did sleep,” Erik whispers into the narrow space between their lips, “but badly. I don’t know– I can’t remember any nightmares. But there must have been.”

“Such is the price of having children, my dear… The time of ever getting a good night’s sleep again is over.” Then, Charles turns his gaze to the sword in his hand, weighs it. Slender and supple and modest, Erik must have designed it with Charles in mind. _His_ Charles.

“I believe this deserves to take pride of place over my headboard,” he declares.

Erik, mind now a million miles away from his earlier concerns, smiles as he lets himself be walked backwards into Charles’ bedroom.

Charles hisses as red-hot pain shoots up his spine. “Ah, god.”

“Not so young yourself now, are you?” Beneath him on the rumpled sheets, Erik is all grins and mussed hair. The laughter lines around his steel-grey eyes are deep, and Charles wants to kiss every single one of them, just as he would worship the smallest scar on Erik’s body, the firmness of his old friend’s muscles beneath his fingers, and each and every moan that spills from the man’s well-kissed lips.

“At least my back has a good reason to hurt,” Charles quips. “A very gorgeous reason, in fact.”

“Flatterer,” Erik says, even though he himself won’t stop touching Charles like he’s the most beautiful sight he has ever been met with; his fingertips drinking in Charles’ broad shoulders, Charles' sky-clear eyes, Charles' gentle smile like he wants to commit all of Charles to memory; his mind chanting over and over again how much he’s missed this, just the two of them on an island in the middle of nowhere.

Well, not quite in the middle of nowhere. After all, they have invited all their mutant brothers and sisters to join them on this one.

Charles shakes the slightly off-putting thought from his head and shifts between Erik’s bared thighs. He has already opened him up, brought him close to the verge of tears once or twice, with his fingers, his tongue, with whispered promises. Even though this body is new for Charles, it fits as though it had always been his – and he finds that being reborn doesn’t keep him from giving and taking pleasure.

Erik reaches up and moulds the metal headboard to tangle with his fingers and wrap around his wrists. “Get on with it already,” he breathes, with just a tad bit of neediness sneaking into his voice. His sides shudder when Charles splays a hand over his bellybutton and leans down to kiss him, to gently take his lower lip between his teeth.

“Erik. I just came back from the dead,” Charles murmurs into Erik’s mouth. “Let me have this quiet moment.”

Erik groans, his mind a frustrated tangle of _wantneedcan’twait_ , and then his surprised moans cut through the air as Charles pushes in and has him writhing helplessly on the mattress.

“Is this good, love?” Charles asks. When Erik mewls and lets hear a barely articulated, “Nnngh,” he decides that yes, it is, and tightens his grip on Erik’s hips and thighs to pick up his pace.

Come evening, Erik’s back is aching as well, though for a slightly different reason than Charles’.

His arms come to wrap around Charles’ waist from behind when the Professor gets up to brew another round of tea, and his body is warm and pliable still where it presses up against Charles’ backside. He smells of Charles, their kisses, their sweat-soaked sheets and of himself.

“Do you think you’ll finally be able to sleep well tonight?” Charles asks as he pours scalding water over their teabags.

Erik hums. His mind has quieted down over the course of their _afternoon activities_ , lazy and heavy-lidded like a sun-bathing cat.

“Yes,” he answers. “I think I will.”

Charles smiles. Above their bed, the Cerebro Sword is glinting – a promise of immortality and all its tedious side-effects – and he knows that neither of them really believes in a good night’s sleep.

Not anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! If you did, please consider leaving kudos and a comment. It doesn't have to be anything elaborate, just a "+kudos" or a "loved it!" would make my day!!! It means so much to an author to see people take the time to actually type out words instead of simply hitting one (1) button, and it's a very easy way to make us writers - who dedicate so much of our free time to create content for you - happy!


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